


I grieve in stereo

by piltovers_finest



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Fluff, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 00:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14200873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piltovers_finest/pseuds/piltovers_finest
Summary: And Viktor thought no more of Jayce.





	I grieve in stereo

**Author's Note:**

> Blitzcrank is listed as Viktor's son in the wiki.

Not thinking about Jayce was a challenge that Viktor wasn't ready to face. He should have known, when he decided that it was the right course of action, that it wouldn't take long for him to crack.

Viktor sits alone in his lab, exactly twelve days after he resolved to forget all about Jayce and focus on his work, writing down an obscure mathematical model that Jayce thought was boring and not elegant enough. It's messy, he argued, and you only use it because you don't understand the beauty in mathematics.

He stops writing and skims over the rows of numbers, letters, symbols, functions. Viktor finds them beautiful in their complexity, feels drawn to the challenge of solving the riddles of logical recursion presented by a model that's overly and absurdly intricate. Yet Jayce's words remain in his memory, a reminder of pointless arguments from a life that he should have forgotten.

Maybe he could get rid of those.

It would be reckless and stupid, and he sighs as he raises his head to look at the jars upon jars full of organs, both organic and mechanic, lining the walls of his laboratory. The brain is too delicate to go around trying to mess with his memories, wherever they might be stored. Jayce would say that they must be in there, somewhere. That there must be a place, in that almost endless net of interconnected cells swimming in sparks of electricity and chemicals, in which to store everything that we are and everything that we remember.

Viktor isn't so sure. He isn't sure there is a mind, either, or that there necessarily is an interconnection between the physical brain and the hypothetical mind. That's stupid, Jayce would say, you cannot separate the chemical process from the outcomes.

Ironic, how he'd be the one to defend the model that reduces humanity to automation.

But enough of that. Getting into debates on dualism and solipsism with himself, imaginary Jayce or not, isn't going to help much with the fact that not thinking about Jayce seems to be a much harder task than he initially thought it'd be. Trivializing Jayce's influence on his life in such a way was an unforgettable oversight on his part.

How many times has he thought about his name in the span of five minutes?

Viktor tips his head down, frowning at his own hands as he tries to come up with a solution for this particular problem. It only helps in making him recall his days back at Piltover Academy, when Jayce wouldn't stop boasting about working for Clan Giopara. When Viktor was proud of being Stanwick Pididly's pupil. When they were alone, and they discussed loneliness, and ended up lonelier.

Enough.

He's wasting time and energy in a fruitless search for relieve. Accepting things as they come isn't his forte, but in this case it seems to be the only way. The situation can't be improved in any way that he knows, unless he wants to risk losing more than memories in the process. Currently, helping Zaun however he can is more important than his selfish desire to get over Jayce.

What a peculiar choice of words, he ponders, for a seemingly impossible task.

-x-

Blitzcrank gets to the last chemical spill before Viktor does.

It isn't the worst chemical spill that they've had in the Entresol Level, yet Zaun can't allow itself the luxury to put its tragedies against one another for measure. Blitzcrank would know better than him, working as it's been amongst those in need, about the loss and grief that the mistreatment of Zaun has caused.

Viktor is relieved to see that it's already there, waving at him as it guides a man out of the area. He waves back with his third arm, something that Blitzcrank seems to like, and approaches the spill with weary steps. For what he can see, the damage doesn't extend far from the source but there's no way to tell how deep down the pavement it goes.

"I have evacuated the area," Blitzcrank says, its voice booming. Viktor turns to it and nods. "There have been four injured, none dead. Structural damages extend only to the buildings adjacent on left and right. I checked for underground leaks, found none. It was caused by waste piling up in this building."

Blitzcrank is the only thing he has created that he can feel proud of in a way that isn't tainted by his own mistakes, or the way his emotions have interfered with his work. As far as pride goes, the idea of it directed towards himself is foreign and laughable. He is, after all, nothing but a man and hence flawed. Blitzcrank, on the other hand, is an independent conscience unburdened by the imperfections of flesh and bone who's decided on its own volition that its purpose is to help those in need. It's admirable, to say the least.

"Thank you. Where are the injured?" Blitzcrank points to a shed down the alley.

"Are you going to help them? I can fix the buildings."

"I'm going to try. I'll call for you if I need help."

"There's somebody there. Piltovan. Wants to do good. I wouldn't have let him in if he didn't."

"I trust you," it would be foolish not to, considering the knowledge he has regarding the inner workings of his own creation. Limited as they are, the fact remains that Viktor has witnessed how deep Blitzcrank's sorrow can run when things go wrong.

Blitzcrank beeps, high-pitched and brief, and Viktor pats its hand lightly before rushing down the alley. He understands the way it communicates and right then there's urgency in it. Viktor needs to hurry, reassurance can wait. 

Upon entering the shed, he checks on the injured first. He barely registers the presence of the other man, as it's irrelevant regarding the tasks at hand. Survey the damage, determine what can be salvaged, assess who might be facing possible death. They're young, at least three of them are probably acquainted or bonding over the experience, as they're talking which means that there might not be damage to the respiratory system. Not to the vocal chords, in any case. One of them is nursing his arm, already bandaged, and shows superficial chemical burns.

The other two look unharmed yet scared. Viktor understands. Chemical spills and chem-clouds were part of his life as a child growing up in Zaun and they never got any less frightening with age. But since they're physically scatheless, he turns to the last of the injured and finds her curled in on herself, crying.

He approaches in the least threatening manner he can, aware of his own design choices and the way his augmentations make him look like. "May I?" he asks, but she doesn't seem ready to trust him.

"Maybe having a face to look at would help her," Jayce's voice interjects by his left, and Viktor swallows down the shock and fury that accost him for the time being. He could be hearing things, or projecting onto the other man. Be him Jayce or not, he does have a point.

Viktor unclasps his mask and drops it, unceremoniously, on the floor. It's nothing but metal, it'll survive.

He asks again. She peeks at him over her shoulder, takes a deep breath, and nods as she uncurls.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

She points at her right ankle. One glance tells Viktor that it's most likely broken, and a brief exploration confirms it. He tells her and she seems relieved, which brings forth a sadness in him that Viktor dreads. Nobody should be relieved to only have a broken ankle and some burns after a chemical spill.

Nobody should be subjected to a chemical spill, full stop.

It is, in any case, a small comfort that the four people injured aren't going to need much from him and so he turns to the other man, hoping to refute the silly notion that he might in fact be Jayce and see him off to get back to his lab with as little interaction as possible.

Viktor turns, and to his left there Jayce is.

It comes with a vague sense of wonder, how numb he feels upon seeing him with how overwhelming he expected it to be. Viktor expects it to hit once he's alone, and although he prefers it the idea of being alone with his thoughts when it happens isn't an appealing one.

As of now, he'll use this sense of detachment to observe before blurting out anything he'll end up regretting. Jayce hasn't changed much, or he keeps projecting the idea that Viktor has of him. More gray hairs, here and there, his crowfeet are more pronounced, he still gives off the feeling that he's noble and heroic. It's something about his stance, his presence, the way he holds himself. But Viktor knows him, can read between the lines, and can see the arrogance sipping through.

It has never bothered him, particularly. Then again, he never expected from Jayce what most seem to.

"You done?" Jayce asks, abruptly, and Viktor blinks at him and grabs his mask from the floor instead of answering right away. He can wait.

"Yes. What are you doing here?"

"Helping?"

"That would be a first."

Jayce rolls his eyes at him and lifts his chin, pointing his way.

"Cut the crap. Are they going to be okay?"

"They don't need any other form of treatment," that I can offer, he would add, yet he suspects that Jayce wouldn't take kindly to that. So far they are being oddly civil, all things considered, and it feels like a bad omen. "Blitzcrank is fixing the buildings."

"I already knew that they didn't need any other form of treatment, that isn't what I asked. As someone with anatomical knowledge, I'm asking your opinion as an expert. Are they going to be okay?"

Viktor is unsure of whether or not Jayce is showing deference to his status as an expert in the field, or condescension. Knowing him, it's more likely the latter. The light stab of irritation at that is a small comfort, being that he can't bring himself to outright hate him.

"There is no way to be certain, but odds are in their favor," he answers as honestly as he knows how and Jayce appears to be satisfied with that, if still frowning.

"You'll keep an eye on them?"

"Of course," Jayce's shoulders drop an inch and Viktor realizes that he was tense, maybe worried. Right. He knows that he's petulant, overbearing, and insufferable in his arrogance but Viktor has never denied that he has good intentions. Sometimes emotions have stunted and mislead him, but haven't they done that to all that is human? There is a reason for him to believe that they are a nuisance. "I will send Blitzcrank with news if there are any, if there are not assume that they are fine."

Jayce nods and leaves the shed without another word. Viktor stays, if only to bid farewell to the injured and tell them where to find him.

Once he's arranged everything he needs to keep their treatment going, he steps out.

Blitzcrank is still there, up the alley, but it appears to be done. It might have been waiting for Viktor to come out. He walks its way, holding his mask in his hands as he does, and it whirs upon seeing him.

"I am done with the buildings. They are habitable, but the area is still unstable. I advice new possible inhabitants to wait for a week, at least," Blitzcrank pauses and Viktor looks up at it, waiting. It's ticking away, which usually is a sign that it's thinking. Trying to come up with a way to say things. "Are you okay? You look tired."

Viktor smiles, trying for reassurance even when aware that it won't be enough. Blitzcrank is, after all, something akin to family. A being born of his own ideals and consciousness that  evolved beyond that. It understands Viktor in ways that even Viktor doesn't.

"We'll see about that."

Blitzcrank, surprisingly enough, laughs.

-x-

The injured heal, thoughts of Jayce still haunt him, and the emotional breakdown that he fears doesn't come.

Which, to Viktor, means that he must always be on high alert since it could happen whenever it sees fit. Such is the curse of emotions, they defy all logic and reason and cannot be predicted. And though referring to them as a curse is childish, Viktor is jaded enough to.

As his luck may have it, it happens when Jayce nonchalantly kicks the door to his laboratory open and, instead of attacking him as logic would dictate, asks him for help. Viktor is only marginally relieved to have his third arm off and not able to blast him on sight.

He is also trying to untangle his fury at Jayce for invading his space like that from every other single emotion that he's feeling, all at once. It isn't easy. When it's there, burning and intense, it gets overridden by grief, or an odd sense of belonging, or nostalgia. Or all of them and more, making even trying to understand each of them as separate entities a challenge.

Therefore, trying to figure himself and his emotive reaction to Jayce out is as brief a process as it's tiresome. He will deal with that whenever Jayce can't see him do it.

"Help you with what, exactly? Your manners? Long lost cause, I'm afraid," Jayce marches on, deeper into the lab and closer to him, unimpressed.

"Are you done being overdramatic and childish? Because I am working on something and can't lose much time. And have I told you that everybody up there is stupid? The only person I know in Piltover with half a brain is a seven year old child."

"That is a very rude way to talk about Vi."

Jayce laughs, strained. "Not Vi, Amaranthine. Anyway, I need you to help me build something because they won't follow my pace and having to explain the exact same thing over and over again is annoying."

"What makes you think that I can help you?" or that he would. The last time they talked might have been surprisingly civil, but it did happen after they attacked each other's laboratories. No matter the reasoning behind their attacks, it still happened and Viktor doesn't hold any grudges, mostly sorrow for the lives lost and resentment at his inability to forget about Jayce, but Jayce is different.

"You built a mostly indestructible golem programmed with an artificial intelligence capable of self improvement and decision making, Viktor."

The urge to ask if he really did, if Jayce does believe now that Viktor built Blitzcrank after refusing to help when Pididly stole his credit, isn't as intense as it might have been years ago. It's barely there, overtaken by curiosity, and Viktor sighs and steps towards Jayce.

If what Jayce wants to build has made him come to Viktor, then it must be important. More than a ridiculous and overestimated hammer-pistol, at least.

 "What do you want to build?"

Jayce's idea, as Viktor should have thought it to be, relies on practicality and resourcefulness. It isn't entirely absurd, it's doable and it isn't bad per se. He wants to build a machine that'd transform chemical waste into energy, and all in all it is a good idea. Viktor has attempted to build such a thing before, after all, and Jayce has taken into account how unstable chemical waste can be but whenever that factors into his calculations it throws off the rest. Jayce is frustrated at his incapacity to solve the problem.

But nor can anyone at Piltover.

Nor can Viktor.

"You are telling me that you, the man that has been working on the improvement of Zaun's factories his entire life, doesn't know what to do with the risks introduced by the unstable quality of chemical waste."

Viktor, who is tired and has been telling Jayce exactly that for the best part of an hour, runs his hands through his hair and drops his forehead on his worktable.

"Yes, Jayce. The most probable outcome is that it would blow up, causing a chemical spill, which is what we want to avoid in the first place. As I have told you, I have tried before and it's what I have concluded."

"Bullshit."

Time is tricky down in Zaun but Viktor is pretty sure that it's too late to be holed up in his laboratory with Jayce discussing how to solve an impossible problem. They have tried, Viktor had even digged up his notes from the time he worked on something similar, and Jayce has complained endlessly about the simplistic design and inelegant approach. Yet he hasn't come up with any better, nor with a way to overcome that particular problematic.

Viktor raises his head, takes a deep breath, and tries to make Jayce understand.

"Believe me when I say that I have tried and I have failed. There are mechanical alternatives to that, tools and ways of disposing of chemical waste. Human error is still the main cause of chemical spills and I have found the way to get rid of it, but not the consent to do so."

He stares at Jayce, sitting on the edge of Viktor's workbench, and he looks awful under the dim lights of the laboratory and the green tones filtering through the window. Exhausted. Not half as pristine as when he first walked in. He looks like a man about to give up on something that matters to him.

He looks like a man so lonely he had to kick Viktor's door down to finally have someone tell him that his idea is stupid and offer alternatives.

Then again, Viktor might be projecting.

Jayce turns to him.

"Why are you really here?" Viktor asks.

"Because nobody up there cared, I told you," he says, and then sighs and avoids his gaze. "And I missed you."

"I attacked you."

Jayce picks a bone chisel from his desk and inspects it. "That you did. Listen, I know that you live for all that drama but can we cut the shit and behave like adults? For once in our lives. Being told that you're stupid by a kid is life-changing."

Viktor is slightly intrigued but decides not to pry, following the bone chisel with his eyes as Jayce leaves it back on the desk. Maybe what he needs to go on with his life without Jayce pestering his every thought is closure, and talking it out could be a possible course of action. Distasteful and sentimental as it is, Viktor sees no other alternative besides the already discarded one of physically manipulating his brain.

"I decided to stop thinking about you. It didn't work very well. Have you ever thought about the ways in which our lives are connected?"

"Have I ever," says Jayce, with a snort, and Viktor finds himself unwilling to contain a dry laugh to match his. "As much as I would love to engage you in a conversation on intersubjectivity, I'm assuming you mean our lives as in yours and mine."

"Obviously."

"If we are going to talk about that, at least take off the mask," Viktor does, for the sake of finding peace of mind. Jayce's eyes lock with his the second the metal touch his desk. "You look like crap. Have you been sleeping well?"

"No. Have you?"

"Never. Anyway, I guess that we've spent a big part of our lives together. That isn't easy to forget or erase, right? I mean, I can still hear you nagging at me sometimes when I'm working. Too ornate, too simplistic, stop showing off."

Jayce's impression of him is horrid, to say the least, and Viktor decides to ignore it.

"Not everything needs to be faux gold," Jayce grabs his mechanical hand as he talks, pulling it close to his face for inspection. Viktor lets him. "Your influence over my emotions has always been a sore subject for me."

"Emotions have always been a sore subject for you," Jayce mumbles, squinting at the joints holding his phalanges together. "I hated that you built a fully functional golem that could think for itself and all I had done with my life were stupid gadgets. It was pathetic. Wait, you have bone in here?"

"Yes. I melded flesh and steel, it wouldn't function otherwise," Viktor flexes his fingers and Jayce leans closer into them. There's something exhilarating about one of his works being the object of Jayce's fascination. Jayce is, after all, a brilliant man. Viktor wouldn't have let him into his life otherwise. "Blitzcrank, on the other hand, is more a product of itself than mine, and the merit goes to it."

"Shut up, you still built it from scrap," Viktor hums but doesn't comment. "I also hated that you were right about emotions sometimes. My feelings made me act like an idiot. And they made you act like an idiot. And everyone I know, really. How did you even weld this?"

"Emotions lack rationality and are, therefore, devoid of logic or any purpose other than acting as bias. Though I do see how they would have functions and could be used. I am not interested in that," Jayce's exploration reaches his arm. Viktor observes. "Laser beam welding."

"You were the only one who I could talk to. It was frustrating, trying to have a conversation with anybody else. They couldn't keep up and they blamed me for not slowing down. I guess that I could have, but what would have been the point?" he presses on Viktor's wrist and his hand folds inwards. "How far does it go? All the way to the shoulder?"

"Your arrogance didn't have much of an effect on me when I could understand what you were saying, I suppose, but you could have been kinder," Viktor pauses and winces, Jayce poking at the joint at the elbow. "To the shoulder, yes."

"I could have been many things," Jayce lets go of his arm, watching as Viktor moves it to loosen it up before letting it rest on his own lap. "Less of an asshole, more of an asshole. Who knows. Does it matter now?"

"I suppose it doesn't."

"I had my doubts about your augmentations but your arm sure is something," Jayce says, after a beat of silence. "Don't get me wrong, still not into your whole deal of eradicating everything that makes us human, but it's a good work. Would look better in gold, though."

"Not everything. Only that which provides bias."

"Good luck getting rid of our cultural frame, then," Viktor huffs. In a way, after having been alone in his laboratory with only his own voice as company, having someone who knows what he's talking about to chastise him doesn't feel half as bad as he would have expected. "And good luck getting rid of the bias that having no feelings at all would introduce. That one would be interesting to tackle."

"In which way."

"Why research if you don't feel like it."

Viktor looks up at Jayce. His eyes are already on him.

"You mean as in why research if you lack the motivation to?"

"Or the aptitude, or the love for it, or the frustration that failing brings, or the personal involvement in whatever it is that you research. You have your own personal motives regarding your work in Zaun, were you to lose that, what would remain?"

"Nothing," he answers, and the vehemence he puts in the word surprises even him. "Or whichever other emotions I had. Sorrow, but disjointed. Hate, only unfocused. Nostalgia, for something I wouldn't feel attached to anymore. In the end, erasing my connection to Zaun would erase one of the pillars of my own identity."

"So would getting rid of my connection to you," Jayce's voice is low, intimate in a way, and his eyes show an earnestness that Viktor has only seen when he's creating. This, he understands, is a pivotal moment in his life. This is going to be of significance, this is going to shape or reshape or destroy or rebuild him. Jayce looks down at the worktable, averting his eyes. Viktor inhales. "This model sucks. You don't know a thing about the beauty in mathematics."

Viktor lets out his breath through his teeth. "Stay," he says, and Jayce stops rambling about elegance and simplification. He looks at Viktor as if he's seeing something new and unknown, discovering him for the first time, putting the million words hiding in the only one Viktor said together. Finding their meaning in Viktor's gaze.

Jayce doesn't smile, not that Viktor can see. He leans slightly closer and pushes Viktor's hair back with both hands. Viktor leans into his touch, unwilling to refrain himself from doing so.

Jayce closes his eyes, breathes, opens his eyes.

"Yeah," he says. "Sure."

Not thinking about Jayce is a challenge that Viktor isn't ready to face.

**Author's Note:**

> guess who read the lores in painful detail again and had to write something no matter how short
> 
> alarming lack of viktor's pov in my fics so there you go
> 
> title from little dark age by mgmt
> 
> summary is a quote from viktor's lore so that's fun


End file.
